


The Messenger

by enigmaticblue



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair gets tasked with an important message, much against his will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Messenger

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt "confession in a desperate situation."

Blair ducks and hears the bullet whistle past him. “Jim!”

 

“Stay down!” Jim yells. “I mean it, Sandburg!”

 

Blair’s crouched behind a row of canned goods next to the injured customer he’d pulled to safety. “What happened to being partners?” Blair grumbles under his breath, knowing full well Jim can hear him.

 

“Look after him,” Jim orders in a low voice from the next aisle over. “I’m going to try to draw him out.”

 

Blair ignores Jim’s shout of “Cascade PD! Put down your weapons or I will shoot!” and fumbles for the pulse in the vic’s neck.

 

“It’s going to be okay,” Blair assures him softly. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

 

The guy is probably in his fifties, judging by the lines around his eyes and mouth and the gray at his temples. He’s pale and clammy, his hand pressed against the wound in his stomach. “I don’t understand,” he says helplessly. “I don’t understand.”

 

“I know,” Blair replies, pressing a hand over the victim’s, trying to keep steady pressure on the gunshot wound. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

“My family,” he gasps out. “You have to tell them I love them.”

 

Blair swallows. “You can tell them yourself.”

 

“We’ve been talking about reconciling,” the man says. “You have to tell her that I wanted to, I did.”

 

“I’m sure she knows,” Blair replies, keeping an ear out for Jim.

 

He hears a sound that has to be someone getting punched, and Jim says, “Stay down, asshole.”

 

“My partner’s taking care of the gunman,” Blair assures the man. “We’ll call the ambulance, and get you fixed up in no time.”

 

It’s a lie; Blair knows it’s a lie, but he says it anyway, unable to do more than offer meaningless comfort.

 

“Tell my kids I love them,” he says.

Blair shakes his head. “You’ll tell them when you’re feeling better. What’s your name?”

 

“Tyler Johnson,” he gasps. “Please, promise you’ll tell my family I was thinking of them.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Blair promises helplessly. “Whatever you want. Just hang on.”

 

Johnson gasps, his head tilted back. “Tell them—tell them—”

 

Blair presses down hard on the wound. “Just hang on,” he begs. “Please.”

 

“Blair!” Jim shouts, skidding to a stop next to Blair and going to his knees. “You okay?”

 

“I’m fine, but Mr. Johnson here…” Blair trails off when he sees Jim’s expression, remote and forbidding. “Jim?”

 

Jim gives a brief shake of his head.

 

Johnson gasps again and stills, and Blair swipes the back of his hand over his forehead. “Did you get the guy?” he asks.

 

“He’s cuffed to a pole, and now we’re just waiting on backup,” Jim confirms. “Why don’t you wait outside for the coroner,” he suggests, touching Blair on the shoulder tentatively.

 

Blair shakes his head. “No way, man. I—I’ll stay with him.”

 

“You don’t have to,” Jim replies gently.

 

“No, I do,” Blair says. “And I need to do the notification.”

 

Jim’s expression is wholly sympathetic. “Do you want me with you?”

 

“If you don’t mind,” Blair replies gratefully.

 

“Hey, you’re my partner,” Jim says easily. “I’m sorry, Blair.”

 

“Not your fault,” Blair says automatically, and hears the sirens in the distance. Jim’s probably been hearing them for a while. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

He’s pretty sure he’s saying it just to convince himself, and not Jim, but he doesn’t believe it. There are at least a few people for whom things are not going to be okay for a very long time to come.

 

~~~~~

 

Blair hasn’t had to do many notifications yet, and this is the first time he’s taken the lead on one. Before Blair had joined the PD, Jim had been in charge, and since they’d become official partners, they hadn’t been required to do any notifications, thank god.

 

This time, however, Blair is taking the lead for the first time, and he feels sick with dread.

 

All they’d wanted was a six-pack for Saturday afternoon, and they’d walked in on a robbery, resulting in Tyler Johnson’s death and the cashier in critical condition.

 

And now Blair has to notify the victim’s family that he’s dead.

 

Jim’s hand presses against the small of his back in an unobtrusive show of support, and Blair is grateful that Jim’s not trying to talk him out of taking the lead on this one.

 

Blair rings the doorbell and wipes his sweaty palms on the legs of his pants, his mind going blank with panic. Jim’s hand presses a little harder.

 

The door swings open to reveal a pleasant-looking, middle-aged woman with graying hair and faded blue eyes. “Hello?” she says uncertainly.

 

Blair swallows hard and shows his badge, knowing that Jim is doing the same behind him with his free hand. “Detective Blair Sandburg, Cascade Police Department,” he begins. “This is my partner, Detective Jim Ellison. May we speak to Ellen Johnson?”

 

Her hand goes to her throat. “I’m Ellen Johnson. Is this—is this about Tyler? Is he okay?”

 

“May we come inside?” Blair asks.

 

She shakes her head. “Where’s Tyler? Is he okay? What happened?”

 

“Maybe we should do this inside,” Blair suggests.

 

Ella covers her mouth. “No, please.”

 

“Let’s talk inside,” Blair repeats.

 

She shakes her head, letting out a choked sob. “Where is he? Where is my husband?” She must read the truth from their expressions, because she shouts, “No! You’re wrong!” and flies at him.

 

Blair is so startled that he probably would have let her hit him, but Jim inserts himself between them smoothly, catching her wrist in what Blair knows is a gentle grip.

 

“Hey,” Jim says, as she beats at his chest ineffectually with her free hand. “Please, Mrs. Johnson. Let’s go inside and talk. Let’s not do this out here.”

 

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Ellen asks, her voice breaking.

 

“I’m very sorry,” Blair says helplessly. “I was with him when—come on, let’s go inside.”

 

She allows Jim to usher her inside, an arm around her shoulders, and Blair follows at their heels, a lump in his throat. Jim helps her sit on the faded blue couch in the front room and allows her to keep a tight grip on his hand.

 

“Can we call someone for you?” Jim asks.

 

She shakes her head, swiping at her cheeks. “I just want to know what happened.”

 

Slowly, awkwardly, Blair begins to explain how he and Jim had walked into a robbery in progress, that her husband had already been shot, how Blair had dragged him out of the line of fire, and what Johnson said as he’d been dying.

 

By the time Blair finishes with the story, Ellen is sobbing softly into her hands, and he looks around for tissues. When he spots a box, he grabs a handful and hands them to her.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Blair says, feeling completely helpless. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save him.”

 

Ellen sobs, but manages to say, “Thank you for trying.”

 

Blair hears the front door open, and hears a young man call, “Mom!”

 

He shoots a panicked look at Jim, who shrugs slightly. A teenage boy pokes his head in the room a moment later, his expression alarmed. “Mom?”

 

“I’m Blair Sandburg with the Cascade PD,” Blair says when Ellen doesn’t immediately reply. “It’s about your father.”

 

“Sit down, Hudson,” Ellen manages to choke out, patting the couch cushion next to her. “Something has happened to your dad.”

 

Hudson doesn’t break down as Ellen explains, but silent tears leak from his eyes, and he wipes them away with the back of his hand, but he doesn’t cry.

 

“Do you need someone? Can we call anybody?” Blair asks.

 

Ellen shakes her head, her arm tight around her son’s shoulders. “No. I just want to be with my family right now.”

 

“Someone from our office with be in touch,” Jim promises, handing her a card. “If you have any questions, or any trouble at all, feel free to call us.”

 

They show themselves out of the house, and when they get back to the truck, Blair buries his head in his hands.

 

Jim’s hand rubs his back soothingly. “The loft or a bar?” he asks.

 

“Loft,” Blair replies. “I don’t want to see anybody right now.”

 

“You got it,” Jim says, and pulls away from the curb.

 

~~~~~

 

Blair doesn’t think he’s ever been as tired as he is when he enters the loft and collapses on the couch. Jim straight for the bottle of bourbon he keeps in the cupboard, pouring two glasses and bringing the bottle.

 

Blair isn’t much of a drinker, but he throws back the first round and holds his glass out for more. Jim pours another and sits down next to Blair.

 

“You want to talk about it?” Jim asks.

 

“No, I really don’t,” Blair replies.

 

Jim takes a sip and leans his head against the back of the couch. “Family notifications suck.”

 

Blair rubs his forehead. “How many have you done?”

 

“Too many,” Jim replies heavily.

 

“Do they ever get any easier?”

 

“No,” Jim admits. “They never do.” He puts an arm around Blair’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Blair.”

 

Blair swallows. “Part of the job, right?”

 

Jim pulls him in close. “Yeah, maybe. Come here.”

 

He keeps the kiss light and undemanding, and Blair reciprocates, needing the reassurance that he’s alive, and so is Jim, and they still have each other.

 

That’s more than Ellen has.

 

Jim sets his glass aside, and then takes Blair’s glass from his hand. He lies back, and pulls Blair on top of him. Their bodies slot together, the result of practice and familiarity, and Blair presses his face to the side of Jim’s neck.

 

“I love you,” he mutters, even though he knows hearing the words makes Jim uncomfortable. “I love you.”

 

“Yeah, me too,” Jim replies, his voice rough with emotion. “Me, too.”

 

And they cling to each other, and Blair hopes he never has to let go.


End file.
